


Do you want to, like we used to?

by beedekka



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Coming In Pants, M/M, Porn Without (much) Plot, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12570556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beedekka/pseuds/beedekka
Summary: What if the moment when Kenny and Kota finally ran into each other backstage hadn't been in front of the cameras at the G1 tournament?  What if it happened some time after that, in a bathroom, with no strings attached?





	Do you want to, like we used to?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphoIsBurning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/gifts).



“Have you seen my jacket?” Kenny asked, scanning the locker room benches. “Not my ring jacket, my actual jacket. If I left it in the overhead I’m going to be so pissed at myself.”

“It’s probably hanging up here somewhere.” Matt waved at the pegs on the wall. “You should know by now that if you can’t find something, it’s been ‘Nick’ed.”

Kenny smiled. That was very true. Nick was organised enough that he organised things without thinking, and the distinction between who owned what belongings had become kind of blurred when it came to the members of The Elite.

“Wait, smile again.” Matt leaned towards him, expression curious.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

“Matt?”

“Did you eat one of those cheap coloured candies with a hundred bad chemicals in them? You are busted if so, Mister.”

“No…” Kenny shook his head.

“Well, your mouth is completely blue right now. Like, Bushi levels of ‘your mouth is blue’.” Matt’s eyes widened. “Actually, squid ink levels of blue. Kenny Omega, did you suck off a tentacle monster just before you came in here? Admit it! You did it again.”

“You got me; that was it,” Kenny told him, peering underneath a jacket hanging on the back of the door in case his was hidden there.

“Seriously though, how did that happen?”

Kenny paused his search. “Is it really noticeable? I drank the new flavour Monster; it’s blueberry-blackberry or something. Some sponsors left a ton of cans to promote it.”

“Well, if you weren’t going to be on TV in an hour, with cameras and lights right up in your face, I’d say don’t sweat it, but…”

Kenny frowned. Time to break out the toothbrush and find a bathroom that actually had mirrors in it, then. “Urgh, this is all I need! Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem. I’m just glad it was Monster and not tentacle monster.”

“Hey, you should pitch that to them as their new tag-line, it’s catchy,” Kenny joked, grabbing his washbag and heading out of the locker room.

Why the hell so many venues had so few mirrors in them, Kenny had no idea, but at least he remembered from being here before that there was a men’s bathroom at the end of the corridor that did have mirrors and decent lighting near the sinks.

Walking into it, he was busy thinking about Monster, and about how much glass cost, and why an old venue wouldn’t just update their bathrooms to have mirrors in all of them these days, and by the time he realised who was already in there shaving at one of the elusive mirrors, it was far too late to beat an unnoticed strategic retreat.

It _could_ have been Minoru Suzuki. It _could_ have been the whole of Los Ingobernables de Japon. It _could_ have been Okada… but of course it wasn’t any of those less-worse options. It was Kota. The one man he’d been scrupulously avoiding backstage for months, and he’d just walked smack dab right up next to him without paying a shred of attention.

Kota had frozen as quickly as he had, eyes in the mirror squarely on Kenny’s reflection, and razor poised mid-scrape. It was so awkwardly familiar that for a second it was obvious that neither of them knew how to react, and the fact that they were both bare-chested – Kenny already in his ring gear and Kota in sweats but with his shirt off to shave – made it even more awkward when they both automatically glanced down to take in each other’s bodies.

Kenny shook himself out of the freeze first and forced himself to try and behave normally. They had to run into one another alone at some point, after all, and this accidental moment was probably as good as any to do it. No cameras there, no fans looking on, just the two of them …half dressed in a tiny bathroom. Well, if not for that last part, this was one of the better ways they could’ve got over this hurdle.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Kenny gestured towards the razor in Kota’s hand. “I just have to brush my teeth.”

Kota nodded, and Kenny stepped to the other basin and started the water running. For a few minutes, they played the roles of ‘two guys separately using a bathroom’ as well as any professional actors could have, and when Kota rinsed off the razor and wiped the remaining flecks of foam from his face like he was ready to leave, Kenny thought that they had got away without having any of the conversations he’d imagined as possibilities for this moment. He kept his eyes down and spat carefully into the plughole, drawing out the end of brushing his teeth so they wouldn’t be finished at the same time, but for some reason Kota was hovering as well. He wasn’t just packing up his stuff and going; was he waiting to say something?

Kenny pressed his eyes closed for a second, leaning in to swish his mouth out with water from the tap. He’d rehearsed so many variations of sentences he might say when they were finally alone together: clever, cutting remarks fitting for the leader of Bullet Club to address a new rival; angry justifications of why he did what he did that night for AJ Styles; _apologies_ for doing it… but he had a feeling that now it was coming down to it, he was going to willingly give up the opening gambit to Kota. Somehow it was like the stream of water was washing out all the words he had in his head along with it, and all he was left with was just to react to whatever Kota was about to say, with whatever it felt right to reply.

He wasn’t prepared for Kota’s approach to be non-verbal.

As Kenny turned the tap off and straightened up, Kota caught his eyes in the mirror again and quirked his eyebrows; an unspoken question of whether it was okay to move closer, one hand raising a little as though he was looking for permission to touch. Kenny watched a brief flicker of confusion pass over his own expression as he worked out what he thought he was really being asked.

_‘Do you want to?’_

_‘Like we used to?’_

Of all the things Kota could’ve wanted out of them meeting like this, a quick fuck was the possibility Kenny somehow hadn’t considered, and now it was on the table with a distinct qualifier of ‘no strings attached’ lying next to it, it was pure temptation.

He saw Kota’s fingers twitch minutely, the nerves anticipating whatever he was hoping to do with them, and Kenny had to take a deep breath to speak. Maybe this would be a terrible idea and the worst thing for them to do, or maybe it was exactly the best thing they could do at this point; whichever, it was definitely about to become _a_ thing they were going to do. “Lock the door first.” Kenny’s voice came out so dark and low that he didn’t sound like himself to his own ears, but the words were what he meant and they had the desired effect, as Kota crossed swiftly to the door and twisted the lock so no one could walk in on them.

When he returned to the basins, Kota reached for him and Kenny turned around quickly, wanting to be face to face with him and not just the reflection. It put them closer than they’d been – outside a ring, at least – for a long time, and the electricity between them was palpable. Kota slid his fingers around Kenny’s back, gripping his shoulderblades before stroking down the notches of his spine, and Kenny found himself supressing a shiver at every touch. Kota’s eyes had slipped closed as he did it, brows knit in concentration, and Kenny could guess why. His body was heavier now than he ever was when they were together, thicker around the shoulders and more solidly ridged on the darts leading to his groin. Kota’s hands were taking in all the changes, tentatively exploring the familiar-yet-different terrain. When he traced over Kenny’s hipbones, fingers smoothing down his edges just so, it was like a test that Kenny couldn’t help passing; his hips skittered involuntarily and his breath hitched, and he watched Kota’s lips curl into a smile.

“Still sensitive that way,” Kota murmured, stroking and circling a light pattern over the same spots again, and making Kenny’s cock swell hard and hot inside the confines of his gear. Eyes still closed, Kota pulled their bodies flush together, and Kenny bit his tongue because even if both of their thighs and abs were bigger now, they were still the perfect fit. The firm outline of Kota’s cock pressing in against his own was like a cypher lining up, and he wanted to push back, to use all the power coiled within their tough physiques to grind and burn and soak each other. He moved on that desire, and Kota growled and squeezed him harder round the hips. It was all the agreement they needed to kick things up a level.

Kenny hooked one arm around Kota’s back and took the opportunity to bury his face in the curve between his neck and shoulder, because right then it was easier to hide than have Kota read every little emotion passing across his expression. And it was easy to muffle his mouth against Kota's skin, too, breathing a damp patch onto the top of his chest and tasting the faint mix of soap and sweat as he inhaled. Kota’s hand came up to clasp him in place, fingers in his hair more like a grip than a caress, and it felt like he knew they probably shouldn’t watch each other all the way through this as well.

It likely _wasn’t_ all that pretty to look at; Kota holding steady while Kenny surged forward and rutted up against him. There was no room for finesse in their movements, just like there was no room for thinking too deeply about what they were actually doing; about what it did or didn’t mean after all this time. An urgent spark of pleasure fired up inside Kenny’s gut and he twisted in an effort to make it happen a second time. He’d thought that when they finally did this again – and in his mind it _was_ a when, not an if – it might turn out like something a bit more poetic. Their story probably deserved a more considered climax than a desperate fuck in a bathroom, but at that moment, Kenny couldn’t have described anything that would have felt better to him than being together like this.

He groaned against Kota’s chest, and Kota was clearly paying attention to his clumsy plea for more because he suddenly moved the one hand that was still playing over Kenny’s hip around to grab the waistband of his pants and drag them down to Kenny’s thighs. Kenny gasped at the rough catch of the elastic as it moved over his cock, the comparative freedom of just his underwear making it feel so fucking huge, before Kota’s fingers circled around it and started stroking him through the thin layer of fabric. The friction it created was so good so fast that it wasn’t long until Kenny was shaking and ready to come, and the little huff of surprise Kota let out when he realised how close he was somehow made him want to even more. It was only a sharp squeeze and a whispered, “Wait for me,” that held him back, abs tensing, on the very edge of his orgasm.

He felt Kota free his own cock from his shorts and line them up again, palm circling both while he murmured words into Kenny’s hair that were probably important, but were too quiet and too difficult for Kenny’s mind to make proper sense of while he was concentrating so hard on his body. He wanted to get his hand in there himself and get a grip on Kota like he’d got one on him, to help Kota feel what he was feeling – that crazy, euphoric, stomach-flipping rush that was _really_ going to get away from him if Kota didn’t ease up on something or squeeze him again soon… “Kota, I—” he warned him, face still pressed against Kota’s shoulder, and when the stroking just sped up in response, all he could do was give in and lose it to his touch.

Afterwards, Kenny was thankful that Kota didn’t seem to want to pull away for a moment either, and they leaned heavily on each other while they caught their breath. Eventually, Kenny rocked back a little and looked down, thankful all over again when he saw that his abdomen and Kota’s hand were as wet with come as his own underwear was. Kenny would’ve dropped to his knees to finish him with his mouth if they hadn’t been, but of course Kota always did have perfect timing, even when Kenny’s was off as hell…

Instead he stared at the damp patch spreading obscenely across the front of his dark briefs. “I’ve got to wrestle yet,” he murmured, achingly aware of how rough his voice was coming out, thick and husky in the afterglow of what they’d just done, and still a touch too slow as his brain tried to catch up to speed with reality again.

“Take them off and go without,” Kota suggested mischievously, finally stepping away from their loose embrace and shaking out his limbs. He hitched his shorts and pants back up before turning to the basin to wash his hands.

“Yeah, right,” Kenny replied. _So many_ reasons not to do that with his gear and his moves.

“Then wear my underwear.” Kota delivered it like it was the punchline to a joke, but he was moving to toe off his Nikes at the same time.

“No!” Kenny stopped him, gingerly pulling his own pants back over the damp briefs and up to his hips. “I’ve got my bag in the locker room, I can easily get changed.”

“Are you sure you don't want to take my shorts?” Kota arched an eyebrow. “You don’t usually seem afraid to wear my stuff out there.”

Kenny swallowed. He thought that might have been one of the conversations they’d managed to sidestep today, but apparently Kota was just picking his moment to bring it up. “Uh, about that…”

“Kenny. Shh,” Kota told him, amusement colouring his tone. “I think I already got your message, don’t you? And I hope _you_ got what you wanted from it.” He started gathering his razor and shaving soap from the basin, and Kenny stood watching him quietly until he seemed almost ready to leave, because of all the possible reactions Kota could have had towards his recent ring attire, he hadn’t been expecting ‘teasing him about it’ to be one of them. Also, if Kenny was being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure whether ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was the correct response to Kota’s last statement either.

Just as Kota was about to click open the lock on the bathroom door, he found his voice again and blurted out, “Wait.”

Kota turned. “What is it?” 

“Is my tongue really obviously blue?” He opened his mouth a little so Kota could see inside, and wondered if the shrewd look that crossed his face was because he was actually checking, or because he knew as well as Kenny that the whole reason they were both in this room in the first place was because there was a big fucking mirror right across from them.

“I’d need to take a closer inspection to be able to judge properly,” Kota said, stepping back to him.

The kiss that followed was slow and sweet, and it took Kenny’s breath away all over again when he let himself sink into it. He didn’t dare think about why Kota was making everything about this feel so damn easy when it probably should have reverted to being awkward and cautious as soon as the sex was done with, but he was going to take it.

When they drew apart, Kota licked his lips and fixed Kenny with a careful gaze. “I think we can both tell that there’s still something there.”

The unspoken, ‘So what are we going to do about it now?’ was left heavy in the air, but neither of them was ready to answer that just yet.


End file.
